


Millennium

by Macx



Series: Gray Areas [6]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Millennium Celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-18
Updated: 2005-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the eve of the year 2000 for a demon and an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Millennium

The City of London was a like melting pot, boiling, spilling over and still going on. People were moving in throngs and crowds and groups, pushing through the streets toward the Thames where there were even more people. There were lights and the occasional flash of private fireworks, music and laughter, shouting and chatting, and it was a true hubbub. Police was present, controlling the masses.

Everything that could be lit up was. Buckingham Palace glowed in perfect harmony with Big Ben, the Tower of London and Tower Bridge. Wherever you turned, there were people. Lots and lots of people. Not just Londoners.

It was the event of the year. Actually of the millennium.

It was the new millennium.

High up on the Millennium Wheel, the Eye of London as it was called, a dark clad figure watched the proceedings. Black Wings lay folded on his back, dark hair tousled in the wind, and the eyes that were hidden behind sunglasses watched the humans below. A smile was on his youngish features. Clad in a long black coat that billowed around him, the young man looked like an avenging angel.

In a way he was. Not so much avenging and not truly an angel any more, but parts fit. He was a demon, a fallen angel, and he had been watching humanity for six thousand years.

Movement to his right alerted him to the arrival of a second winged being and he smiled more, this one warm and welcoming. White wings fluttered and shook out, then folded neatly on the back of the other, whose blond hair looked as tousled as his.

Anthony J. Crowley met the blue eyes that were alight with life and happiness, so typically Aziraphale, and let his own smile continue.

"Finally managed to shoo the last customers away?" he teased. "Or did you kick them out by angelic force?"

Aziraphale sighed. "They were quite insistent. Millennium predictions, you know. So silly, really."

Crowley's eyes were back on the people already celebrating the new millennium, even if it was still hours away. Some wouldn't even meet it in a halfway sober state.

"Dimwits," he only remarked.

Aziraphale gave him a little scolding glare. "They are unawares of many celestial workings, my dear. They're not necessarily dumb."

"Just ignorant of the finer things in life?"

"Well, yes."

"Works fine for me."

The angel's brows dipped a little. "Oh, that, yes. You were quite successful with that scheme."

"Long term work, Zira. Long term. Insinuating doubt into a believer's mind is easy, but catching most of the planet, well," Crowley grinned a predatory grin, "I've to say it's ingenious, really."

"Probably one of your best works yet."

Crowley shot him a slightly surprised look. "Why, thank you."

Aziraphale chuckled. "I recognize hard work when I see it. And it's not like I couldn't get a foot in here or there."

The demon smiled again, with a lot less ferocity. "I'd be worried if you let me work without complaints or just a tiny bit of thwarting."

They sat down on their exposed and windy perch, neither of them the least bit uncomfortable by either the height or the cold. They were invisible to the humans down below or those partaking on a ride on the Eye.

Planting the doubt about computers and the millennium in the minds of humanity had been a long and hard work on Crowley's part. He had started a decade ago, using a few simple human minds to insinuate possible trouble with the beginning of the new millennium. So many things could go wrong. It wasn't just a new year. The whole number would change. All four digits of it. Endless trouble…

From then on it had been like a snowball going downhill and growing in size. The avalanche hadn't really taken off until the last three years before the year 2000, but by then Crowley had only had to lean back and enjoy the chaos, the panic, the doomsday prophecies. It had been simply beautiful to watch. Perfect. Choreographed like a master.

And now, just before the main event, people were either completely panicky, in doubt, slightly disturbed or boldly taking planes around the world to stay ahead of the date line, always celebrating the new year whenever they reached a new time zone. He could imagine how buggered they would be by the end of the non-stop party, filled to the gills with alcohol and probably drugs.

Yes, perfect.

Despite the fact that he wasn't truly an employee of Hell anymore, he could enjoy himself. He had started the whole business while still on their payroll, so to speak, and the fruits of his labor just happened to fall into the gray zone of his unemployment or free-lancing business, however one looked at it.

"Contemplative?" Aziraphale's gentle voice drew him back to the present.

Crowley blinked and shot his angel an annoyed look.

"No," he grumbled.

Aziraphale smiled graciously and leaned closer to him. Crowley shifted to accommodate him and they continued to watch.

 

*

 

Aziraphale's lips met Crowley's as the choir of voices from down below, the bells and the fireworks greeted the new millennium. One louder than the other to be heard. Crowley wrapped his arms around his lover, his angel, pulling him closer against him. The slender form melted against him, no more room between them and even a sheet of paper would have had problems to fit in. Crowley opened his mouth and invited the other's tongue inside, meeting it in a sensual, loving dance.

White wings opened halfway, mirroring his own, and the wind caressed their hair. Crowley gazed into the deep blue eyes, perfectly visible in the dark. Demons had no problems at night. Now and then there was a sparkling reflection from the fireworks in Aziraphale's eyes. The light hair was painted in all kinds of colors from the fireworks and his angel was breathtaking in his simple beauty.

"Happy New Year," the blond whispered and caressed the tousled hair.

Crowley smiled, catching the exploring hand and kissing the inside of the wrist. "Happy new millennium, Zira."

Below them the humans partied, corks popping from champagne bottles, hooting and cheering and well-wishing drifting up to the two immortal beings. The fireworks continued, the greatest display ever to light up London. The bells rang a lot longer than previous years, and there would be no end to it all. Crowely kept his arms around the angel at his side, ancient eyes looking at a world that had now entered a new age once more. He smiled a little.

"Want to go down?" Aziraphale asked.

He shrugged. "Sure."

The angel gave him a knowing grin, then spread his wings and gracefully sailed off to land at the edge of the packed Jubilee Gardens. Crowley followed, as invisible as his counterpart until they had reached a secluded corner where they let their wings disappear and mixed into the crowds.

 

*

 

They walked through the packed streets, people bustling around them, some drunk on alcohol, some on happiness, some just going along with the celebrations. Crowley had an arm around Aziraphale's waist, keeping the other close, even though his angel wouldn't get lost. There was such a thing as divinity and it worked well for Aziraphale.

Evading a group of roaring drunk middle-aged men staggering past, Crowley mentally gave them a push and they tumbled back toward the pub, laughing at their own silliness and coordination problems. Aziraphale only twitched an eyebrow. They were in the middle of what could only be called a Party District and everywhere there was music and dancing. Here or there fireworks sputtered into the air to the cheers of the onlookers.

"Beautiful," Aziraphale whispered and leaned over, giving him a kiss.

Surprised by the angel's openness, his boldness, Crowley turned to meet the soft lips. No one took notice of them in the melee of people. The demon maneuvered them toward a building and pushed Aziraphale against the wall, hands sliding to massage the firm behind. The angel moaned into his mouth, pressing closer. Crowley let his fingers work, feeling Aziraphale respond.

A high giggle could be heard close by, followed by a squeal, and Crowley shot the teenage couple not far away a dark look. He was feeling her up in a very open way, his hand already under her clothes, and she was utterly drunk. The British flag was painted on her cheek, a heart on the other one, and her hair had been streaked with red, white and blue. He was about to direct a thought at her when his lover stopped him with a little bite that startled Crowley.

Aziraphale chuckled and his breath touched Crowley's neck, making him shiver. Lips nibbled at his throat.

"Angel," he groaned.

"Yes?"

"You're bad."

"No, actually, I'm the good guy, demon."

Crowley caught that wandering mouth and sealed the lips with a hard kiss, his knee pushing between Aziraphale's legs. The angel shivered into his touch, but he was far from surrendering. Strong hands fisted into his t-shirt and pulled Crowley close again. Thank good… well, that thingy, that they didn't need to breathe.

The giggling girl and her wanna-be-lover moved on and Aziraphale reached around to slip his hands into the back pockets of the demon's very tight pants. Crowley hissed softly, undulating his hips a little against his lover's.

The angel moaned encouragingly.

A few decades ago Crowley wouldn't have taken the celestial being as someone to make out openly on the street. Well, he wouldn't have believed that Aziraphale would even allow that intimate physical contact either; let alone with a demon. But here they were, lovers and partners, and Crowley's emotions were sometimes all over the place. It was scary. It were emotions a demon wasn't supposed to feel, let alone possess, but he did have them and he experienced them. He was terrified by those emotions, but he also liked them, loved them and what they did to him. He was a disgrace to demon kind, but since he no longer belonged to them…

Crowley gave a mental shrug, as he had done so often. He had stopped being a demon millennia ago; the angel's influence. He had stopped belonging to Hell just after the Near-Apocalypse.

Roaring laughter could be heard from a pub across the street and people spilled out onto the street, singing and generally making a lot of noise. Crowley listened to his lover's breathing catch a little and grazed the vulnerable throat with his fangs, drawing an even sharper reaction.

"Crowley," Aziraphale whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, angel?"

"Not here…"

He smiled evilly. "Prude?"

Aziraphale exhaled roughly and buried his head in the crook of Crowley's neck, trembling a little with his reaction to the nibbles and bites.

"Not like this," he finally managed. "Not like some… cheap…"

Crowley was stunned for a moment. He hadn't thought his angel would see it like that. "Zira?"

"I want you, but not while hiding in a corner of the street or in a doorway." Blue eyes burned with Aziraphale's emotions, taking the demon's breath away.

Crowley hadn't really planned on any such actions, but the simple thought… He groaned at the image.

"You're bad, angel," he whispered.

Aziraphale blinked, then finally looked at him and started to chuckle. "You weren't…?"

"Not up until the moment you planted the image in my head!"

"Sorry, my dear."

Crowley snarled and glared at his lover, who looked completely unrepentant. Not what an angel should look like. He smirked a little at the thought of the bad influence he had on the celestial being. Then again, the same was true the other way around. They were becoming more and more mixed up with each other, in their ways and behaviour, sometimes he wondered when he had really started to change from who he had been.

Or had he ever?

Had he ever been really evil? A demon by definition?

Crowley chased the thoughts away and proceeded to softly kiss his lover, feeling the hands in his back pockets pull him closer, clenching into his behind.

"How about we leave this party and go to our own?" the demon murmured.

"Splendid idea," was the breathless answer.

Crowley knew he had to pull away from the warm, pliant form to start going home, and he was reluctant to do so. Aziraphale smiled at him, then kissed him on the nose and slipped away. Crowley smiled a little and followed him, the two immortals moving purposefully away. When they reached a more or less open spot, both unfurled their wings and took off, none of the celebrating humans seeing a thing.

 

* * *

 

They arrived not much later and Crowley's eyes were drawn to his lover, who was looking at him with an almost feral expression of hunger. It made him shiver. Those blue eyes held a decidedly un-angelic fire.

The next thing he knew, Aziraphale had pushed him against the wall and his mouth was thoroughly ravaged by the angel. Crowley curled his fingers into the waistband of his lover's pants, drawing him closer, his tongue battling against Aziraphale's for dominance while in the same breath submitting to the man's need. He loved it when his angel was letting out his demanding side. It was an almost primitive need, something from very deep inside him, something that targeted Crowley as its victim, its prey, while also recognizing it as a fellow hunter.

So much not like a divine being. Crowley had to confess he was severely turned on by it.

They separated, breathing hard, eyes wild and dilated. Crowley's yellow eyes glowed golden and he hissed softly. A flush covered Aziraphale's fair skin and his hair looked unruly. He had never looked more desirable and a longing rose inside the demon, a longing so primal it shut out everything else. Something seemed to fizz through him, sizzle along his nerves, settling way down south.

Crowley drew his lover into a searing kiss that grew more demanding with every second. He was acutely aware of Aziraphale's body against his, so perfect, so familiar, but still very new and exciting. His desire rose several notches, thoughts colliding with each other, tumbling around in his head.

He had no idea how they made it to the bedroom. He only knew they were suddenly there, in the perfectly clean and stylish private rooms of his flat. The bed was just behind him.

Aziraphale was on him then, tugging at his shirt, trying to get to the skin underneath. It was an almost frantic gesture and Crowley caught the hands. He kissed the insides of the wrists, nibbling at the sensitive spots, making the angel moan, knees buckling slightly.

"Crowley..." he whispered hoarsely.

"Slow," Crowley murmured. "Don't want to rush it."

For all the fervor he had felt outside, in here, the driving force had abated, making room for the sensual desire, the need to make it last.

He pushed the hands down and let his eyes rake over his lover, then reached out and trailed a finger down the shirt-clad chest. Aziraphale closed his eyes as the wandering finger scraped over a nipple. The shirt was divested off and Crowley spread his hands over the chest revealed to him. He massaged the soft skin, kissing a spot here or there. Aziraphale reacted beautifully to each stimulation and by the time Crowley made his way to the strong back, he was breathing hard.

The demon let his hands slide down the stomach to the waistband, and made quick work of the zipper, all the time kissing and nipping at the shoulders and shoulder blades.

Aziraphale groaned as his arousal was freed and he stepped out of his pants.

Crowley smiled and walked around to the front again, then continued the exploration of his lover. The angel's fingers wove into his hair as he sank lower, giving minute detail to the navel and then finally arrived where Aziraphale wanted him the most. He gasped loudly as warm lips and a moist mouth took him in. Crowley paid very keen attention to each sound the celestial being made and his fingers dug into the firm buttocks and hips, holding him in place whenever he twitched.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale whispered, touching his head, raking his fingers through the dark hair. "So good..."

His hips moved again and Crowley steadied him. He repeated his ministrations, sometimes adding a new little twist, until Aziraphale whimpered with the desire of release, which he wasn't given. One finger sought that special spot and when he touched it, Aziraphale gave an inarticulate scream.

The demon caught his lover as Aziraphale's knees buckled, and for a while, both men just lay together on the floor. The only sound was harsh breathing.

"That was amazing," the angel murmured.

Crowley smiled maliciously. "Isn't over yet, Zira."

The blue eyes shone with passion, love and desire, the heat in their depth making Crowley shiver.

"I certainly hope not, my dear."

He cupped Crowley's cheek with one hand and leaned forward to kiss him gently. It turned from gentle and soft into hard and demanding.

Part of Crowley amazed at the incredible power behind each touch, the flaming desire that was burning across his very soul. Another part just wanted to throw his angel across the bed and get on with it. That part won.

 

*

 

Crowley leaned over Aziraphale and gave the soft lips a gentle kiss. His hands strayed over the sweaty body and a faint tremor answered the touch. A moan escaped the other being and Crowley cupped the sensitive groin, squeezing gently. The angel whimpered and hazy blue eyes sought Crowley's serpentine ones. They were glowing a bright golden now. The demon's gaze was drawn to the love bite on Aziraphale's shoulder and he licked over it, smiling possessively.

The last hours had passed in a whirl of heated pleasure and incredible satisfaction. All of him was still highly sensitive, just like Aziraphale, and he would allow his body to heal and recover now.

The angel looked as exhausted as Crowley felt.

"I love you," the blond murmured and nuzzled him.

The demon purred in response, as usual caught up on the words he had rarely really spoken before. Muttered, maybe.

Instead he just curled up close to his counterpart, felt an arm around his shoulders, felt lips kiss his temple, then he dozed off, satisfied and pleased with himself.

 

* * *

 

Crowley leaned against the wall beside his window, one shoulder firmly lodged against it, and gazed out of the window. The first day of the new year had started bright and with the usual cloudy sky, a threat of snow hanging in the air, and the sun hiding shyly. There was hardly anyone out and about this time of the day, and the few cars creeping down the street were either cabs, delivery trucks or people returning home from a party with their designated and very much sober driver kicking them out where they lived.

He sipped from his mug of hot tea, savoring the taste. The strong aroma woke him a little more and he glanced at the bed that was as tossed and messy as an hour ago. Crowley had woken early, against his usual nature of sleeping in if he could, and he had watched the sleeping angel for a while, then got up and showered, made tea, and looked out the window, enjoying the peace.

He had done that a lot lately. Enjoy himself, the routine, the life with Aziraphale. It was… new and exciting in its simplicity and probable boredom. He liked it. The angel spent a lot of nights in his bed, in his flat, and having breakfast together, even if it was quick and small one because Aziraphale had to be at the bookshop, was something special in Crowley's book.

It was so human and normal, it didn't fit in with the previous centuries or even millennia.

There was movement on the bed and he watched as Aziraphale woke, as he stretched leisurely and opened his eyes. A lazy smile appeared on his lips.

"Good morning."

Crowley let his eyes run over the mostly revealed body, answering the smile. "Morning. I made tea."

Aziraphale got up and the blanket slid off the angel's body, showing him in all his glory. Crowley knew that even if they had another six millennia together, now as lovers, he would never grow tired of the sight. Aziraphale might complain about his body being too ‘fat', but everything was in its right place. Not too much, not too little. Where Crowley considered himself a bit on the thin side, Aziraphale filled out quite nicely.

"I'll head for a quick shower."

Oh and was he tempted to join him, but Crowley bit down on the urge and just nodded. He would make some light breakfast. His plans for later involved a local diner that was open today and a huge brunch.

Emptying his cup, the demon walked into the ultra-modern kitchen he rarely used, or had used was more like it, and rummaged through a fridge filled with gourmet food until he had a few breakfast items.

When he was almost done Aziraphale stepped into the kitchen and smiled, giving him a kiss.

Yes, normality was fine. Normality with a little demonic influence here or there, followed by divine intervention into human affairs. Aziraphale was always a busy bee in that department and Crowley knew he wasn't lacking either.

It was the best life he could imagine. And unlike many demons, he didn't lack imagination. No, not at all. Humanity would always best them in that department, but Crowley had been among them long enough to have picked it up by osmosis.

They started the new year and the new millennia at a leisurely pace, watching the news, and enjoying themselves. Coverage on the Millennium Dome let Crowley grin with pride. Another one of his projects. It had taken ages to make it all work out so perfectly, to have politicians argue against each other on the prestigious object that was by now considered by many to be an albatross around New Labour's neck. Sadly, the privately funded London Eye hadn't been much of a negative. Oh well, he couldn't get them all. Aziraphale had made sure of that, in his ‘let the humans do the thwarting, I only encourage them to do so' way.

Till the next millennium, Crowley thought with a smirk.


End file.
